


Satori

by tsukinari



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Confessions, Dating, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Ryuji is a good bro, Set Early December-ish, oblivious boys in love, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinari/pseuds/tsukinari
Summary: He digs his fingernails into the long curls of his hair as he stares at the pink ginger floating in the remaining broth in his bowl.It’s mocking him too, surely.Mocking his obliviousness, as he too had floated along, unaware.... He’s been dating Yusuke this entire time.-Akira has a realisation about the nature of his relationship with Yusuke whilst out spending time with Ryuji.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Kitagawa Yusuke, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 75





	Satori

“ _So_ , who’s the lucky girl?” Ryuji asks him out of nowhere, chopstick-full of noodles around halfway down his throat, creating a kind of odd gurgling noise. It had been a while since the two had hung out together, and after debating back and forth between training and Dome Town, they’d eventually decided to go with the usual and made their way to Ogikubo instead.  
  
He’s selected a rather simple shoyu ramen for himself, vastly different from the rather elaborate meat-heavy ramen Ryuji had chosen to spend his share of their recent Mementos run on.  
  
“What?” He replies, tone slightly flat. He feels an interrogation oncoming, something he’s recently found himself not particularly fond of.  
  
“Uh, _hello_? The one you’ve been going off on dates with this whole time? You should’ve just told me man, I thought we were bros!” He makes a mock offended expression, hitting his closed fist off his chest, before returning to help himself to the box of pickled ginger. Akira also gets gifted another small pile of it, right next to the still-untouched pile Ryuji had already placed there earlier.  
  
“There’s... nobody like that.” He answers, stealthily moving the ginger strips to the side of the bowl, genuinely unsure of what his friend seemed to be getting at.  
  
“Y’know, I’m just not buying it. Cause I already spoke to some of the others, and they’re all thinking it too.” He accentuates his words by popping his last thick slice of chashu into his mouth.  
Whole.  
It’s quite a daunting sight.  
  
He’d even asked the others? Surely this had all been some sort of misunderstanding. He knows he comes across rather private by nature, but he hopes his friends know he would at least have the courtesy to tell them if he were serious about someone.  
  
“But I’m not-?” he tries again, yet Ryuji continues undeterred. There’s an escaped bit of sliced green onion stuck to his cheek, the ginger that he just took somehow already gone along with the rest of his toppings.  
  
“So, is she hot? I mean, I ain’t mad you know, at least _one_ of us is gettin’ somewhere. Oh wait, is it some _super-secret_ romance thing? I won’t tell, promise! Wait shit, is it because she’s older!?”  
Akira marvels at the other boy’s talent for talking, and even eating, almost as fast as he can run. He’s likely already convinced himself that their leader is dating every woman he’s ever stopped to spare a glance at.  
  
“I know it’s none of the other girls, they _totally_ wouldn’t be able to hide it, so it _has_ to be someone outside the group.” He looks pleased with himself for his deduction, like a regular Sherlock Holmes, if Arthur Conan Doyle had envisioned it about a blond, thick-skulled teenage boy with bad posture instead.  
  
“Ryuji. I’m really not dating anyone. Why would you think I am?” he asks, exasperated, looking mournfully at his rapidly cooling noodles. He was quickly losing whatever appetite he thought he had, the portion he had already eaten battling with the morning’s curry.  
  
“Oh, _come on_...! Don’t think I didn’t notice all your trips to the gallery and that old bookstore- oh, is she some kind of high-class chick maybe? But then, there’s also the aquarium and even here at our ramen hangout so, maybe she’s more low maintenance?” He punctuates his questions with large slurps of the broth. The office workers seated beside them were looking at him with thinly veiled disapproval, although neither of the boys pay it much attention.  
  
“... Wait, what?” Akira’s voice is quiet, especially compared to his companion, but then he’s not sure if Ryuji is paying enough attention to see if he was even responding, too lost in adoration for the shop’s premium broth.  
  
It _was_ true he had been visiting those places, though it’s not exactly like he had been hiding it. But still, he’s not quite sure how it was a reason to think he’s dating someone. In fact, the only other person going out to those places with him had been-  
  
“Ann told me you even rented a boat for the lake in Inokashira in summer, how ‘bout that eh _Mr. Smooth_? Didn’t know you had it in you!” Ryuji gives him a playful dig to the ribs, seeming oddly proud. Akira winces, but it’s not because of Ryuji’s elbow bruising against his torso.  
  
He wasn’t being smooth in the slightest, he had only rented the boat because Yusuke couldn’t afford both the rental fee _and_ the train ticket home. The artist had seemed so dejected at the prospect of being unable to see the sights from the lake that Akira had caved in almost immediately. He had only got _in_ the boat at Yusuke’s insistence. He had been closer to the description of a chauffeur than any sort of romantic endeavour, simply watching steadily as Yusuke was quickly overtaken by artistic pursuits. Although, he supposes, if he _were_ dating Yusuke, it would have been hard not to find that particular sight captivating. An earnest yet determined gleam in his eyes, with the breeze brushing over his long dark hair, and the sun catching the water in such a way that everything seemed to shimmer around him. He thinks once or twice his breath might have stopped, right around when Yusuke had peered shyly at him from under his lashes, an almost self-conscious smile as he tried in vain to tuck his hair back behind his ear.  
Now that he thinks about it, those two siblings _had_ been muttering something about-  
  
“ _Aaand_ don’t think I didn’t see those glow-in-the-dark stars all over your room last time. That’s gotta be a gift from some cute girl!” Ryuji points a chopstick at him accusingly, like he had cracked the last bit of code.  
  
They _were_ a gift, by far one of his favourites received from a friend, and most definitely a welcome sight to see when he went to bed and found that he couldn’t sleep, but they hadn’t been from a girl.  
The idea of even receiving gifts from Yusuke to begin with spread a peculiar warmth in his chest, knowing how short on cash he was yet still continuing to get him something anyway. The gifts were commemorative, intrinsically linked to the memories of times they had spent together.  
  
Now that he thought on it, they did spend quite a lot of time together. Somehow, they always ended up in the other’s company, even for something as simple as watching commuters.  
Even just approaching the Underground Station caused him to instinctively search for piercing silver eyes and a head of silky blue hair amongst the crowd, a wash of disappointment any time he was nowhere to be found. He bought him extras at the grocery store for Mementos, since Fox was always a constant presence by his side in almost every line-up, a resplendent silver blade reflecting off the spires of sharp ice he commanded.  
He took pictures of anything interesting he seen, like the glow of Tokyo streets by night or the way Morgana’s fur stuck up in the mornings, even when he was out with others, just in case the artist might be able to use them as a reference. He gets pictures in return too, stalls with samples of fresh fruits and other goods he knows Yusuke samples more than once, paintings from the galleries he visits that are red like his gloves and grey like his eyes. He picks out flowers from his job, ones that weren’t quite good enough to be sold, arranging them carefully, hoping to contribute to a painting or a sketchbook page or even just to brighten his dorm room a little. He always smells a little like sweet pollen the days after, fingers covered in paint the same hue as the petals.  
  
To anyone else, it might even look as though they were actually…  
  
Oh.  
  
 _Oh._  
  
“… _Fuck_.” He hisses, so low he’s certain the only one that could hear it was Ryuji, a sudden realisation hitting him harder than any shadow could ever muster.  
  
“See? Can’t hide anything from me, buddy! So, are you gonna tell m-”  
  
“It’s Yusuke.” He says, head down, completely deadpan. It feels as though the noise level suddenly got much quieter. Or perhaps it’s simply all the blood that had suddenly made its way to his ears.  
  
“-ehuh...? Wait, _for real!?_ ” His friend’s eyes were comically wide, mouth flapping open, the now-empty bowl still in his hands. Green onion still on his face.  
  
“Ryuji. The stars are from _Yusuke_. The four-foot nude marble statue is from _Yusuke_. I’ve been helping with his exhibition at Ueno. He spent almost _every day_ of summer with me at Leblanc. I’ve taken him to the Planetarium _three times_ this month alone! I took a- _summer boat ride_ on the lake with him, I’ve- oh my _God_ … This whole time, we’ve, I’ve been-” He digs his fingernails into the long curls of his hair as he stares at the pink ginger floating in the remaining broth in his bowl.  
It’s mocking him too, surely. Mocking his obliviousness, as he too had floated along, unaware.  
  
He’s been dating Yusuke this _entire_ time.  
  
He hears a snort next to him and looks up to see Ryuji, face red as his t-shirt, with his hand covering his mouth. Suddenly, he can’t hold it anymore, and bursts into a fit of laughter, cheeks deflating like a pierced balloon. The green onion is finally gone.  
  
“Holy _shit_ dude! You two are _totally_ dating! _Hahaha!_ ” He laughs so hard he grips his stomach as he’s doubled over on the table, drawing the attention of every remaining patron in the shop.  
  
“ _It’s not funny!_ ” Akira hisses at him, this time enough to rival Morgana, heat rushing to his cheeks so fast it makes him feel dizzy. “Now what am I supposed to do-!”  
  
“ _Now_ I know why he didn’t think anything was up when I asked him about all this. I thought he was just… Bein’ Yusuke.” He still has a massive grin on his face, the dopey kind. “Hoh _man_ , my stomach hurts from that!” He wipes a tear away from his eye.  
  
Akira groans in defeat, wondering if it were possible to drown himself in his bowl in order to avoid dealing with this.  
  
He wonders if Yusuke even realises how their outings had looked to all the others. Did he even care?  
  
“…What if he doesn’t even think they’re dates?” he asks, realising too late that he had voiced it.  
He becomes that much more desperate for death by ramen broth.  
  
“Oh. Do you... _want_ him to think they’re dates?” Ryuji looks at him, abruptly serious, from the corner of his eye. Occasionally tactless he may be, but he’s not cruel. His earlier bout of laughter had been in good nature, and there’s no trace of judgement in his expression.  
  
Is that what he wants?  
  
 _Yusuke…_  
  
He’s kind, gentle, talented, and far sharper than others give him credit for. His presence was soothing and unimposing, like a calm autumn river, eccentricities leaning more toward fond than jarring. He’s become such a fundamental part of this new life he leads, as natural as drawing breath, that it’s impossible to envision it without him. Whatever he pictures for himself, Yusuke is right there with him.  
  
He’s always thought this, somehow always knew he’s thought this, and yet never consciously admitted it.  
  
“... I- I don’t know.” He answers, quietly. His earlier embarrassment had been vastly overtaken by nerves. It was strange to encounter a situation he hadn’t planned on. He had no answers this time, nothing to secure any kind of escape route. He was trapped, helplessly drawn further into feelings that ran much deeper than he could’ve ever suspected.  
  
Ryuji takes pity on him, hand coming down on his shoulder to give a firm squeeze. “Aww, look man, even if you do, it’s just dates right? Isn’t that the point of them? To figure out if you really do like the person?” he smiles at him, steady and reassuring.  
  
Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, he finds himself thankful to have found such a wonderful, rag-tag group of friends.  
  
“…Thanks, Ryuji. You’re a good friend.” He gives the barest hint of smiles in return, all he can possibly muster, but it’s a good enough response for his companion.  
  
“It’s no problem, man! I’ve always got your back!” He grins as he looks up at the menu, possibly considering another bowl.  
  
“... and for what it’s worth, he like, literally _never_ shuts up about you. I think you’ll be fine.”  
  
The heat in his cheeks isn’t showing any signs of calming.  
  
“Ah, that’s good... since I’ve already invited him to the Jazz Club tonight...” he admits as he looks away, slightly sheepish, twirling a strand of hair around in his fingers.  
  
“Dude... you really are hopeless.” Ryuji sighs, then laughs at him once more, calling the owner over to discuss a second order.  
  


* * *

  
He’s not quite sure if it’s nerves or excitement that thrum through his veins as he waits for Yusuke. The jazz music does little to soothe the intensity, the warm, dark tones only serving to heighten the sense of intimacy that had descended on the evening’s plans. He wonders how many times the feeling had been there in the past, only to simply be ignored.  
  
Because it _was_ there, in the way Yusuke trusted him to watch out for them while they were alone in Mementos, and in the space between the planetarium stars that projected overhead. It was in the consolation for Desire’s crushing rejection, and the silence that had filled the empty room at the atelier when Yusuke’s breath had picked up just slightly to keep from crying. It was there in the joy of his triumph with Desire and Hope, and it was there in the strength sought from their shared glances as Kawanabe talked about his former mentor. Time and time again, over and over, this feeling stretched out between them like satin threads.  
Those moments were intricately woven together, a tapestry of their bond in vibrant blues and reds.  
  
Yusuke catches his eye the moment he walks in the door.  
  
Slightly different from his usual… unique style of dressing, he’s instead opted for wearing a plain white button-down shirt, although just with everything else, it seems as though his neck is somehow allergic to the fabric, the first few buttons undone just enough for his collar bones to peak out. The jeans he wears are a bit of a shock, since it feels like he only ever wears black dress trousers, but the faded blue denim was a smart, casual compliment to the shirt. A warm brown coat matches the brown of his boots, making the whole ensemble rather pleasing.  
  
It’s a good look on him.  
  
A _very_ good look.  
  
Coupled with the day’s earlier events, even the artist’s small smile of acknowledgement was enough to cork the air in his lungs.  
  
“Hello, Akira.” He says as he sits, voice soft and fond, harmony with the jazz in the background. Such a simple sentence, yet it’s almost as if his brain can’t process it quick enough.  
  
“Hey,” He leans over the table, elbow brushing against the other boy, gravitating towards him as though he had his own magnetic pull, “thanks for coming.”  
  
“I should be the one thanking you for inviting me.” He chuckles, low and smooth, and the thrill of it is like electricity in his veins.  
  
“I enjoy our time together.” He admits, brushing it off, voice thick and heavy. There’s no lie in his words, yet somehow, he feels nervous about admitting them.  
  
There’s a subtle tenderness to Yusuke’s expression as he looks at him, a smile that comes from the eyes. “As do I.”  
  
They receive their complimentary drink soon after, the sight reminding him more of a tropical beach than an underground club. It’s sweet, cold and fruity, topped with a bright slice of orange and a shiny red maraschino cherry, which he quickly takes into his mouth. He rests it between his lips and the sharpness of his teeth, tugs the stem off with a pop, and tries not to feel smug as Yusuke devotes his full attention to watching him do it, gaze sharp and lingering.  
  
“How’s the exhibition coming along?” he asks innocently, breaking whatever daze the artist had settled into.  
  
They talk for a while, about everything and nothing, until the only thing left of his nerves is the faint remnants of butterfly wings flickering in his stomach.  
  
As the night stretched on, before the bar closed itself to minors, he remembered the gift he had brought, resting in his pocket.  
  
He presents it to Yusuke, sliding it carefully across the table.  
  
“This is for… me?” He faltered, face twitching between pleased, confused, surprised, and grateful.  
He picks it up delicately with his graceful fingers and undoes the ribbon on the deep navy-blue box, opening it to reveal a silver bangle resting on bright blue velvet. It was simple yet elegant, accented with subtle engravings reminiscent of Japanese flowers and ukiyo-e landscapes. It had seemed so perfect for him when he’d noticed it on display in the Underground Mall that he hadn’t even paid attention to the cost, the uptight cashier’s expression twisting from condescending to complete shock when he easily produced the money.  
It was safely in his pocket before Morgana suspected a thing.  
  
Yusuke’s surprised gasp was almost reverent.  
  
“To think you would give me an accessory of this kind...!” he exclaims, the slightly higher pitch of his voice always a tell-tale sign of his excitement. “Thank you, Akira. I promise to care for it well.”  
He places it around his wrist immediately, and Akira gets some relief that the fit is perfect for him.  
  
“Actually… I had a gift in mind for you, too.” He laughs as he talks, finding humour in the fact that they both thought to bring a gift for the other.  
  
“You did?” He asks, feeling himself try much harder than usual to conceal his expressions.  
  
“It’s nothing nearly so… elaborate, but I thought of you when I saw it.” He deflects, reaching into the bag he had with him.  
  
He doesn’t slide the gift to him as Akira had, instead placing it directly in his hands. They brush together for a brief moment during the exchange, and he feels the tips of his ears burning.  
He unwraps the tissue paper, trying to pace himself despite the quiet excitement, to find a small black leather journal inside, with heavy gold-trim pages and a crimson ribbon placemarker. A classy looking fountain style pen accompanies it, sleek inky black with a red marbling effect and matching gold metal accents.  
  
“This year has almost come to an end already.” Yusuke sighs, wistful and verging on sombre. They both know what it implies. “You’re a rather diligent writer, so I thought I should make sure you had something to keep your new records in.” He traces his finger over the bracelet on his wrist, smoothing over the engraving.  
  
“Thank you, Yusuke. It’s beautiful.” He says, defying everything in him that wants to reach out and touch it as well, although he’s sure the other boy wouldn’t deny him it. “I’ll definitely use this.”  
  
He doesn’t voice the hollowness it instils in him, that in a few months’ time it will serve as a small piece of Yusuke he gets to take with him, when he inevitably leaves him behind. A poor substitute of the real thing.  
  
“Well then, shall we be off?” The artist says, no longer wanting to dwell on what would serve as a dampener on such a pleasant evening.  
  
He nods in agreement, resolving to enjoy the time they had left together just that little bit more.  
  


* * *

  
They’re waiting on the train back to Shibuya, but it doesn’t seem to be due for a while. They’ve come at an odd time, just the two of them on the platform besides the lone conductor who stands in the distance at the opposite end.  
And yet, they still stand close together, arms brushing despite the overabundance of space.  
  
“Akira,” Yusuke begins, hesitant, as though he’s not quite made up his mind on whether he should continue, “I have something I must confess.”  
  
“O-oh…?” He feels his heartrate pick up immediately, his pulse beating heavily against the fragile skin of his wrists.  
  
“I… I feel like I can no longer accept these meetings of ours.” He grits out, like it physically pains him to do so.  
  
Akira has never felt his heart sink quite so low, and so fast, as it did in that moment.  
  
“You- You don’t want to hang out with me?” He blurts out, cringing a little at how childish and sad his response sounded.  
  
“Don’t want to…?” The response seems to have confused him, making his brows knit together as he tilts his head to peer curiously at him.  
Even when he’s getting potentially rejected there’s an endearing quality to his every action, and suddenly he doesn’t know how he’ll ever see Yusuke any differently.  
  


“It’s nothing like that, I assure you. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t enjoy our time together. On the contrary, I find spending my time with you to be… Some of the most memorable and fulfilling experiences I have ever had.” His eyes are shining, looking truly joyous in a way he rarely does.  
  
“So then, why…?”  
  
“I have not been honest with you. At first, I was happy to spend so much time with you all. To be included as an equal within such a wonderful group is something I never even dared to hope for...” He looks so happy and hopeful as he’s saying it, and Akira is again overwhelmingly glad that each of them had found in each other an opportunity to experience something many of them never had.  
  
 _Family._   
  
“Even still, within the group, you’ve no doubt noticed that I consider you… my closest friend. I thought that was enough to ensure the intentions of our individual meetups would remain pure.”  
  
“I’m sorry Yusuke, I-” He starts, scrambling for how to apologise for his feelings. The sudden shame is like a hot iron poker to the gut, the humiliation that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of the other boy reacting negatively enough to make him feel sick.  
  
“Hold just a moment.” He shook his head, not allowing him the time to elaborate, darkened blue hair swaying slightly over his eye, only to be tucked behind his ear again.  
  
He steels himself, regret burning over the potential loss of such a vital part of his life.  
  
“Over time, I’ve realised that I… I began to desire our time together in a much more selfish manner. I savour our time together so much that I… never want it to end. I find myself wanting to spend every day, each waking minute, with you.” Yusuke can’t bring himself to face him, turning so that only his side profile was visible as he crosses his arms over his chest.  
  
If Akira’s heart were to enter a gymnastics competition, these constant acrobatic feats it was performing would surely net him first place. Again, his heart feels as though it’s not where it should be, this time like the wild beating is caught in his throat instead.  
  
“And yet… How can I ask for more than you have already given me? When you have already given me so much? You oblige my every whim. You do all that I desire, and more still. Even then, you never complain. Surely there are… _others_ much more deserving of the gift of your time than me…” Despite the obvious affection in the other boy’s voice, he looks distressed, a pained expression clouding him.  
  
Now, of all times, he remembers Ryuji telling him earlier he had talked to each of the others about who he was dating. That Yusuke’s response in particular had been strange.

And as if the last of the clouds had cleared from his mind, he understands.  
  
In the hopes of giving him the confidence, the space to exist so boldly within his heart, it had only been replaced with crippling insecurity at the thought of someone else being more deserving of his time.

How foolish he must’ve felt as he considered there might be another.

Almost as foolish as Akira had felt for not realising sooner that there could never be another.

He looks so painfully beautiful, illuminated softly by the low buzz of the station lights and the moon peeking through the platform gap he looks sadly up to, that Akira can’t for a moment imagine giving himself to anyone else.  
  
“Yusuke…” He breathes his name like he’s saying it for the first time all over again.  
  
He can’t take it anymore, heart fit to burst, and moves forward to close his hand around the wrist that now wore the bracelet he bought. The other boy startles at the contact, wide eyes searching for something in Akira’s expression. He tugs him forward gently, using his other hand to reach up to the nape of his neck, threading his fingers through the length of his soft hair.  
He’s so tall that he has to reach up to meet him, but Yusuke meets him willingly, his free hand coming to rest tentatively just above his hip.  
  
When he presses their lips together gently, closing his eyes, the touch is soft yet cool from the night air. It feels as natural as everything about Yusuke does, like kissing the glow of the stars or the warmth of a summer breeze.  
  
“… _Oh_.” He breathes as they part, as though the Universe itself had just imparted hidden knowledge upon him.  
  
“Was that… alright?” Akira asks, hand coming to rest on the side of his face. It was warm, no doubt from the lovely blush that now painted his cheeks and nose.  
  
“Perhaps… You should do it again, just to make certain?” He breathes, acting coy, with a mischievous glint in his eye.  
  
“For science, right?” He plays along, laughter in his voice. It’s a drunken feeling, being this close to him. He smells like violet and lavender, with the familiar sharp undercurrent of paint that follows him always, and it’s absolutely intoxicating.  
  
“For science.” Yusuke murmurs in confirmation, pulling him even closer and tilting Akira’s head up with a finger beneath his chin.  
  


* * *

  
He’s just finished reading through the latest _Jump_ when he notices the time. He shoots Akira a text, figuring there’s no way they could still be at the Jazz Club at this hour.  
  
 _Ryuji_  
( So how did it go?? )>

He’s almost anxious as he waits for a response. He knows he should’ve probably spoken to Yusuke before throwing Akira into the deep end like that, but in a way… Well, he’s never been this certain of feelings that weren’t even his own.  
It’s not exactly like he was the only one to notice either.  
His phone chimes with a message.

 _Akira_  
<[ IMG:281.jpg ]

 _Akira_  
<( They’re definitely dates now :) )

It’s a picture of them both, what he gathers is right now, in the attic room at LeBlanc. The only light streams from what’s probably the stupidly old TV, but he can just about make out Yusuke, wearing what looks like one of Akira’s pyjama t-shirts, fast asleep beside him. He’s leaning into him, loose strands of blue hair falling over his face, one hand resting comfortably on Morgana who was curled tightly into the space between them.

He gives a hiss of triumph and a fist pump before screenshotting it quickly, feeling particularly victorious.  
  
They were both his best friends, and really, they’re great guys, but man had it been so exhausting to watch the two obliviously swoon for each other for _months_ now.  
  
He’s almost nauseous dealing with it all.  
  
Yusuke stammering when Ryuji had looked over his shoulder to find page after page of his sketchbook covered in perfect renditions of all different shades of Akira.  
  
Standing with Akira for more than ten minutes at a time hearing him mumble about ‘getting the right composition’ as he took over fifty photos of the same view.  
  
Futaba complaining to him that Akira had spent the entire duration of their supermarket trip for Sojiro debating with himself over which flavour Monta Yusuke would prefer.  
  
Ann complaining to him that Yusuke refused to talk about anything else until she answered whether Akira’s eyes were closer to a Payne’s Grey or Davy’s Grey.  
Apparently, Davy’s Grey had been incorrect.  
  
How either of them had remained so blissfully unaware when everyone else around them somehow knew was nothing short of a miracle.  
  
Even _Boss_ had awkwardly and not-so-subtly inquired if they were ‘a thing’, much to the horror of everyone else in the room.  
  
So perhaps it hadn’t been the best way to do it, but this way he wins the bet _and_ Akira gets to think he figured everything out on his own.

His grin is maniacal as he sends it to their groupchat, created sans Akira and Yusuke, as a safe haven just for complaining about how oblivious their two favourite morons were.  
  


 _Ryuji_  
[ SCREENSHOT_251.jpg ]>  
( You all owe me ¥1000~ )>

The texts from the others come flooding in almost immediately.  
  
 _Ann_  
<( Omg no way!!! )  
<( Sooo cute!! )  
  
 _Makoto_  
<( I’m impressed you actually managed to pull it off. )  
<( If only you put this much effort into studying… )  
  
 _Haru_  
<( At last!♡ )  
  
 _Futaba_  
<( Mission Complete☆!(>ω • )b )

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my own playthroughs of P5/P5R, after realising that I was spending so much more time with Yusuke than any of the other confidants, even when his route was finished! I never swap him out of the party either :')
> 
> Surely the rest of the team would've noticed the ungodly amount of time and money I was spending on just Yusuke? No hard feelings, Phantom Thieves!


End file.
